


Revolting Resolutions

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Birthday Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, New Year's Resolutions, Three Kings Day, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Resolutions for the new year are a good thing EXCEPT when Sherlock is the one making them.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 38
Kudos: 45
Collections: Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes - 6.1.2020





	Revolting Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlwaysJohn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysJohn/gifts), [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts), [DaisyFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/gifts), [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts), [Podfixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Podfixx/gifts), [RosieFreebatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieFreebatch/gifts), [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts).



> When John and Sherlock disagree over the end of the holiday season, chaos ensues courtesy of the World's Only Consulting Detective.

31st December 11:55 p.m. :

Martha McPherson Hudson was, like John Hamish Watson, descended from fierce Scottish lineage, had been a talented exotic dancer accustomed to fending off all manner of riffraff, and had been married to the head of a huge drug cartel. In short, she was NOT given to histrionics. Therefore when she screamed, no shrieked, said John Hamish Watson pounded down the stairs gun in hand prepared for the worst.

"Fire! John there's a fire out by my bins and Sherlock..."

On hearing Sherlock's name John bolted out the back door before she could finish. In the alley he found his lover swinging what looked to be some sort of wire cage that had been set ablaze around his head and shoulders.

"Sherlock what are you..."

At that moment, bells everywhere began to toll the new year. "Happy Hogmanay John, Hudders!" He then proceeded to sing Auld Lang Syne at the top of his lungs. 

While Martha stood frozen John ran to fetch a bucket of water. "Be careful with that thing, you'll set your hair on fire. In this bucket- now!"

"John! One would think you don't appreciate my efforts to acknowledge your heritage with the traditional Scottish celebration."

"Erm...thanks I suppose, but you did rather startle Mrs. Hudson and I didn't expect, well anything."

Having composed herself Martha chimed in, "As entertaining as this is, boys, it's colder than my dead husband's balls out here. Can we PLEASE take this inside?"

"Of course Hudders, but first you and John go back in the house, I'll be around to the front in a wink."

John opened his mouth to speak but Martha shook her head. "Don't waste your breath dear, just come along."

In a minute or so Sherlock was beating on the black door to be admitted. Landlady and Doctor opened it to find Sherlock bearing shortbread and whiskey. "Legend has it that it's good luck to welcome a tall dark haired visitor with these gifts into your home at the first of the new year. There should be coal as well but it was used to fuel my fireball- needs must you know."

Aggravation was replaced by rueful smiles as the visitor was admitted. Upstairs over not so wee nips of whiskey and Hudders nibbles, Sherlock explained. "You see Hudders, John has insisted that we leave the Christmas decorations in place until Three Kings Day and that I make some 'useful', as he put it, Resolutions. So in that spirit I propose to extend my resolutions until the sixth of January so John and I come out even as it were."

"So tonight's resolution is what dear?"

"To always be the one to bring good luck to our home every year."

Despite the madness John huffed good naturedly, "And apparently you're to be the harbinger of the first massive hangover of the new year as well. Best get on with it then."

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1st January 6:30 a.m. :

One second John was wrapped snugly in the duvet, the next he was flat on his back on the floor as a horrendous noise blasted through the flat. Falling twice as he tried to get his feet beneath him, he finally made his way to the sitting room where Sherlock was lustily playing "Scotland the Brave" on a bagpipe whilst wearing a kilt.

"Bloody hell, you bastard, stop that racket. Oh my head, please for the love of God have mercy."

Martha flew through the door eyes bloodshot, robe hastily cinched and hair in a rainbow of plastic curlers. "Do you know or CARE young man that it's barely half six on New Years Day and I am hungover?!"

"I'm simply honoring the tradition of carrying the festivities of Hogmanay to this morning. Loud noises are said to ward off evil spirits, and today's resolution is to always keep all evil from those I love."

"That sweet talk worked for you last night, Sherlock, but I'm not so amiable this 'sun isn't even up yet' morning. John, I'm going back to bed and YOU will get this boy under control if you have to smother him with his kilt!" She flounced out of the room slamming the door resulting in two loud groans from herself and Watson.

"Well that was ungrateful don't you think? Interested in what I have under my kilt?"

"No I am NOT and if you make one more sound I WILL smother you and shove that bagpipe somewhere very unpleasant."

Watching John drag himself back to bed Sherlock smirked, "How rude."

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2nd January 2:00 p.m. :

Mostly recovered from the fiasco of the day before, John prepared lunch then went out to the shops for what he hoped would be enough milk to last at least more than one night. When he returned the sound of splashing hit his ears as he climbed the stairs. In the center of the rug was a medium size kiddie pool filled with the filthiest water John had ever seen and Sherlock was jumping in it.

"Jesus Christ why...what..."

"Oh bother, now you've made me lose count. I'll start again. Count each jump John until we reach seven."

Trying to end whatever this was as quickly as possible, John complied counting slowly as Sherlock jumped up and down in the water like a toddler until they reached seven.

"There, that's done then."

"What's done?"

"Jumping over seven waves at New Years is said to please the Sea Goddess. As we have no need of that my resolution is to please the Thames Goddess, thus the water."

"You're splashing biological hazardous waste Thames water around our sitting room?"

This time, fully dressed but no less distressed, Hudders burst in the flat. "Boys has a sewer pipe burst? There's the most noxious water dripping from my ceiling right over my best rug."

After a long explanation, forced apology from Sherlock and thorough cleaning job also by Sherlock, John was beginning to seriously regret his plan to "improve" things by prolonging Christmas and making resolutions.

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3rd January 8:15 p.m. :

In the way of further apology, Sherlock had gone to several of Martha's favorite shops and prepared a lovely meal for the three of them which they ate in her flat by candlelight which Sherlock pronounced both more esthetically pleasing AND romantic. The rich dessert and warm Port had lulled both Martha and John into a pleasant stupor when a huge bear lumbered into the darkened flat roaring like a beast from hell.

Mrs. Hudson didn't faint- not ever- until now. As she came around he heard her boys voices floating above her.

"But John wearing the bear costume vanquishes all your enemies and I always will want to make a resolution to do that."

"That's insane and, in case it escaped your attention, Hudders IS NOT OUR ENEMY!!"

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4th January 5:45 p.m. : 

John seldom enjoyed going back to the clinic after the holidays but today he had been relieved to escape the Machiavellian plans of his deranged lover. He arrived at 221 just in time to hear a crash in the alley and rushed around to see a mattress being shoved out their upper floor window to land on what was obviously the remnants of what had been John's old bed.

The familiar curls accompanied by a wide smile poked out the window. "Oh good John you're home."

"You're throwing furniture out the window?!"

"Well spotted, darling! The Italians say it's the best way to let go of negative thoughts and bring positive change. My resolution for the day."

John realized he was shouting in a public space but couldn't be arsed to care. "And you thought throwing the bed out the window was the best way to do that?!"

"Do keep up John. It's not like we'll be needing two beds."

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5th January 10:00 a.m. : 

"Since it's quite chilly this morning I'm going to light the fire if you have no objections and since you appear NOT to be a fan of surprises I will inform you of my plan to put today's resolution into action."

"Which is?", John said warily.

To burn an effigy of Donovan, Anderson, and the Prime Minister in order to erase all the bad things that plague us."

"Does that include you, and how do you even know who the PM is anyway?"

"Very droll John. No it does not and I don't, but you seem less than fond of him and that is enough to sway my opinion."

"Much appreciated, but have a care and don't set the flat alight. Hudders has scarcely recovered from the water incident. I'll make us a proper brunch, yeah?"

"Quite acceptable."

Something smelled off, really off. John reluctantly stuck his nose near the eggs, bacon and even the bread but that wasn't it. What then was that stench? Was it coming from the... "SHERLOCK!"

"I made you aware of my intentions. What more can I do?"

You can tell me what the fuck you've stuffed those damned effigies with. It smells like shit!"

"Just so John. Horse manure is highly recommended as a reliable combustible. I collected it myself fresh from Her Majesty's own Royal Mews next to Buckingham Palace this morning while you were still sleeping. Thoughtful of me wasn't it."

"Fresh? This morning?! Sherlock the manure you use for fuel is meant to be dried, not straight from the source. It takes some time to dry not half a morning. Get those things out of this flat and hurry before..."

From downstairs a very cross voice rattled the windows. "I don't know what he's done this time, John but my nerves are on tenterhooks. Take him in hand and goddammit man open the windows and use some air freshener."

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6th January Three Kings Day 12:00 p.m. :

"John this hardly seems fair, you demanding yesterday to be in charge of the last resolution. You have undermined my entire schedule."

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't put two and two together when you've been hauling stacks of old plates into 221C for the last few days?"

"But John, breaking plates against the front door ensures that there will always be humour and fun in the home."

"I think we can manage that ourselves, genius. It's bad enough that we've had to send Hudders off to a Spa, a very expensive one I might add, so she can survive your revolting resolutions. She doesn't need to come back to a front stoop littered with tiny shards of broken crockery that will be tracked into the house on our shoes FOREVER. So, no! No throwing plates."

"You see the fun is evaporating from our home as we speak."

"Not quite, sweetheart. If you recall, I am now in charge of making a final tradition and resolution. Wait right here and no snooping or my resolution will be to make spanking my new method of taking you in hand as Martha suggested."

Ears burning and heart thumping Sherlock sat and waited. Soon John reappeared barefoot wearing the deep sapphire blue dressing gown Sherlock had given him Christmas Day. "You know, or maybe you don't as you didn't choose it, one more tradition is that the color of your pants determines your New Years future. Yellow brings money, Green luck in life, Blue good health, White peace, and Black, perish the thought, BAD luck. But there's one other color that brings love and passion. Care to guess?"

Sherlock gulped, sweat forming on his brow. "Red?"

"Ye-P! Got it in one. So here's to both of those." John slowly opened his belt revealing the smallest tightest pair of red pants Sherlock had ever seen. "No no no, don't touch. We've something else to deal with before any of that type of fun. I'm well aware you think I'm easily manipulated and distracted by you, and don't even try to deny it. Thing is though, I'm actually not and if you thought all these traditions and resolutions would make me forget that along with being Three Kings Day it is also your Birthday, William Sherlock Scott Holmes you are sadly mistaken."

"Jawwwwwn!"

"Not another word. First there's the matter of your gifts for Three Kings Day which actually work excellently as Birthday gifts as well."

"Gifts? But I didn't get you anything."

At the sound of the deep baritone whine John frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry Sir."

"Good. Here are your three gifts and they are traditional I assure you."

Sherlock gingerly opened the first small package which contained sticks of Myrrh incense their pungently wonderful smell of licorice permeating the air.

"That's for Hudders sake as I fancy I can still smell horse in here Sherlock."

The second package contained an elaborate bottle of Frankincense oil. Sherlock's eyes twinkled in happiness as the earthy/spicy/fruity fragrance hit his nose.

"Yes, that's for giving you a birthday massage, not that I'm sure you deserve it. But since I'll enjoy it myself I'll allow it."

Sherlock's big brain was now working overtime. Myrrh, Frankincense, that only left...Gold. His hands trembled as he opened the bright honey colored box. Nestled inside soft black silk was an iridescent gold glass butt plug. The flat smooth top was adorned with a large black and yellow enameled honeybee with gold wings encrusted with sparkling crystals. The gasp that came from those Cupid bow lips made John chuckle with glee.

"You'll notice, it's a plug not a dildo. You've been too much of a brat this last week to get a toy that pushes your joy button but I think wearing this for the afternoon will get you ready for our party later."

"Party? You don't mean to make me invite people here, please!"

"No. This is going to be a private party. In the meanwhile though we're going to bake you a cake, AFTER we fit you with your new gift. Strip!"

A liberal coating of the Frankincense oil and the gold bee slipped easily into place. "Don't I get to choose a color of pants John?"

"Already chosen for you, Honeybee, nude. Into the kitchen."

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It was a most interesting Great British Bake Off. Sherlock was given a full body apron to wear as John wanted no more misadventures with anything being singed but Sherlock still found himself covered in flour and sugar and unfortunately the remnants of a dropped egg oozing between his toes.

Add to which John kept standing behind him reaching under the apron to wank him just to the brink over and over only to stop just short with the admonition, "That is NOT the icing we're using on your Birthday Cake." He was also ambushed periodically with quick but firm smacks to his bum, including the plug, which not coincidentally added up to Sherlock's new age plus "one to grow on" whatever the hell that meant. Sherlock was, by now, only interested in one thing of his that was growing.

The torture continued as John opened a bottle of wine for them to share as the cake cooled for frosting and Sherlock's bee was "buzzing" as he squirmed in his chair the cool leather less than comforting.

When the cake was completed, rich chocolate frosting with decadent brandied cherries to garnish, Sherlock was near to throwing HIMSELF out the window and John took pity.

"What say we move on to that massage, love. You light the incense and I'll warm the oil."

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Sherlock most certainly adored his new honeybee but it didn't compare to John's hot throbbing cock thrusting in and out of his well stretched hole as a pleasant tenor voice warbled out "Happy Birthday to You" until they both blew out the metaphorical candles of the "love flames" that burned between them. 

As they lay panting along side each other John drawled, "Any more objections to my having the last say on Christmas and New Years?"

"None whatsoever, Captain. Matter of fact for my benefit and Hudders peace of mind I suggest you consider the job yours in perpetuity."

"Chuffed to do it and as my first 'official' act of the new year I propose we place your new honeybee back in it's “hive” because from now on OUR new tradition is going to be that you always Bee Prepared. Happy New Year, Happy Three Kings Day and Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes."

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**Author's Note:**

> Blushes.😊 Yes the butt plug IS a real thing and available online.
> 
> Hope everyone's 2020 is off to a wonderful start as we all celebrate Sherlock's birthday together.
> 
> MY new year's resolution is to help our Sherlock fandom remain strong and to be grateful for all the dear friends it has brought me. May that be your resolution too.
> 
> Please leave me a wee Three Kings Day gift as kudos and comments, it will make my new year happy.
> 
> ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Pat


End file.
